


Of the Bluest Skies

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a wee bit of bonding between Ironhide and curious Annabelle Lennox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of the Bluest Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a lovely little drawing of Annabelle giving a confused Ironhide a little smooch on the nose. uvu

“Daddy said you don’t like kids, ‘Hide.”

Ironhide looked up from the hologram, down at the little female child. Annabelle, the offspring of his friend and fellow comrade, William Lennox. Ah, he had momentarily forgotten he was on babysitting duties for the next 30.8 kliks. “What?” he asked, voice a low grumble.

Annabelle swung back and forth on her heels, hands behind her back. “Daddy said you don’t like kids, I said,” she repeated. “Is that why you were so grumpy about watchin’ me while daddy an’ mommy are away?”

Ironhide optics shuttered. “… I do not dislike children,” he answered. The holograph winked, disappeared. “Rather, I am not… used to interacting with them.”

“You don’t have children on Cyberron?”

Ironhide smirked. She still couldn’t say ‘Cybertron’ correctly, and ‘Hide’ always came out like ‘Haide’. “We have children. They are called hatchlings,” he answered.

“Did you have any hatchlins, ‘Hide?”

“No,” the Autobot replied, shook his head. “… I find I am not entirely… Well. Let us just say, my programming is limited on the care of children.”

What he wanted to say was he couldn’t put up with their whining and shrieking and crying all the time. Children took up a lot of time and energy. He recognized children were not as… rational, so to speak, as adults. They took things out of proportion, fret and fussed and got emotional over the most ridiculous things. Plus Ironhide was never a terribly patient mech, something required in raising youngsters.

“Ooooooh.” Annabelle nodded, tapping her chin. Ironhide knew she didn’t get it. That was fine. “Well, maybe one day when the war is all over you can meet my friends an’ you can meet more children an’ then your programming will be fuller of information!”

Ironhide wasn’t sure if she was being cute or threatening. “Perhaps,” he murmured. ”However, unlike you, I have been bred a warrior since my sparking. As such, warriors are tasked with more pressing duties. That do not involve children.”

Annabelle blinked. “Like my daddy,” she said. She shrugged. “He’s a warrior an’ he’s always busy so I don’t see him much. Guess that ‘splains it.”

Ironhide frowned. “Your father loves you very much. He wishes for nothing more than to be with you and your mother,” he explained. “He speaks often of you. He talks of your ‘school grades’ and your art, and how you grow and continue to develop more physical features of himself.”

Annabelle beamed. “Really? He talks about me?”

“Quite a bit.”

Annabelle blushed, slapping hands to her cheeks. Her face quickly went back to hesitation, so fast as expected from a child to switch emotions. “Does it bug you, ‘Hide?” she asked. “When he talks about me?”

Ironhide shook his head lightly. “No.”

Annabelle’s smile returned, softer this time. She then jumped up on the Autobot’s knee and waved him closer. Ironhide stared a moment then lowered his head. Once close enough, Annabelle reached out, grabbed at his face and leaned in to give him a big smooch on the nose. Ironhide squinted an optic, both surprised and confused.

Annabelle stood back. “You may not like babysitting me, but I like you a lot, ‘Hide,” she giggled. “I think you’re my best friend.”

Ironhide blinked. He slowly lifted his hand, and Annabelle hopped into his palm. “You are… quite important to me as well,” he murmured, a little embarrassed. He placed the little girl back on the ground. “And it is not to say I do not like babysitting you. It is just…” His optics rolled up to the garage ceiling currently forcing him to double forward. “… I would like the surroundings to be more suitable.”


End file.
